


Prudens

by myeerah



Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myeerah/pseuds/myeerah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you’re going to succumb to the Dark’s desires, I suggest you get on with it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prudens

**Author's Note:**

> Prudens is described in-game as "the most elegant red wine, with a gentle flavor and bouquet."

Elegantly carved marble and priceless hardwoods fell around them, first rocked by the explosion, then torn asunder by the earthquake. “I fear the city no longer welcomes us,” Ashley muttered, once again shouldering the burden of the man he’d pursued so relentlessly.

“Then...we should oblige it...by leaving quickly,” Sydney gasped through the pain. “You...no longer need...a circle.”

“A fair point.” Ashley eyed a chunk of masonry that struck the ground some scarce distance from them. “How far will the Dark carry us, would you say?”

“As far as...needs be.” He suppressed a cry as bits of debris struck the raw flesh of his back. “Cast the circle with your mind,” he explained, his voice gone tight.

Calling to mind the look and, more importantly, the feel of a transportation circle, Ashley mentally inscribed the shapes and glyphs around them, pictured a safe haven, and asked the Dark for safe transport.

It answered.

There was always a curiously feminine feel, as of being cradled by a mother, when he transported, but this time it was different. The sensation of being held was still soft, feminine, but less maternal, more like he remembered Tia’s embraces. Whether they were real or not, he still remembered them, and the Dark held him the same way.

They emerged in a bolt-hole Ashley had established several missions ago, an abandoned warehouse fitted with a cot, medical supplies, and rations in a room concealed by rotting wooden shelves. “We should be undisturbed here,” he commented, lowering Sydney to the narrow bed and helping him to lay face down.

Sydney hummed something non-committal, which Ashley took to mean agreement. Rummaging into his stores, Ashley located a bottle of brandy and some clean bandages. “Best to get that cleaned before healing,” he said, the only warning he offered before swabbing gingerly at the open wound with an alcohol-soaked cloth.

The bedding shredded under Sydney’s suddenly clenched claws as he hissed in pain, but that was the only reaction.

He could appreciate the stoicism. Ashley allowed silence to reign as he cleaned up the ruin of Sydney’s back. Flawless, pale skin gave way to red, wet meat as the dried blood was sponged away. The cuts were not clean in the least. Jagged knife marks were visible at the edges, and flesh had been gouged to varying degrees. Often, as he worked, fresh blood would well up from broadly slashed veins, a rich, dark red like Leá Monde’s famed wines. Ashley largely ignored this, more concerned with old blood and embedded fragments of the fallen cathedral.

It was strange, seeing the expanse of Syndey’s exposed back denuded of its inverted Rood, a blasphemy that no longer troubled Ashley. It was stranger still to see the man himself, quiet and still, neither speaking riddles nor dodging his attacks. Strangest of all was the rising desire, all unbidden, to lean down and press lips to that butchered body beneath his hands.

“It’s the Dark,” Sydney said, suddenly. His voice was once again steady, if strained. “I may have passed the key to you, but the Dark is jealous of its possessions.”

“I’m told many desired you, that those who followed you offered up their very being for your pleasure,” Ashley said, almost conversationally, unsurprised by Sydney’s ability to pick up on his unspoken thoughts. He was nearly finished with his task, a growing pile of blood-soaked bandages on the floor beside the cot.

“Weak-minded souls who desired the power and comfort of the Dark.” Sydney snorted dismissively. “You’ll find they’ll try to cling to you, as well.”

“And why do I want you now, when I never did so before?”

“Because,” Sydney answered, as though to an idiot, “the Dark is jealous. I am still its creature, as you are, now.”

“I don’t understand,” Ashley said.

“Don’t be stupid, Riskbreaker,” Sydney scoffed. “The Dark that moves in you desires the Dark that remains in me. You didn’t want me before because you had no lust for the Dark, and you only want me now because you accepted it and proved your mastery.” He glared up, sidelong, from a slitted eye. “If you’re going to succumb to the Dark’s desires, I suggest you get on with it. I’m no longer immortal.”

Stung, Ashley looked once more at the unusually inviting mess beneath his hands. Deliberately, he bent down and lapped a seeping trickle of brandy-tinged blood from a nearly-exposed spine, only to smile vindictively as it made Sydney cry out.

“Guerir,” he breathed onto flayed muscle, then watched the healing spell knit the other man back together.

He still had an urge to trace the absent Rood across Sydney’s once more unblemished back, but was content to savor the sweet-copper taste lingering on his tongue for the time being. Ashley was immortal, now. There would be time.


End file.
